Changes
by MelW79
Summary: Jon has a feeling that big changes are coming his way. This is my take on what leads to Jon's absence from the CHP in the sixth season of the show.
1. Chapter 1

"You haven't said a word since briefing!" called Ponch to Jon over the roar of their motors as they cruised down Ventura Freeway.

"You know that feeling you get, that something hinky's gonna happen?" asked Jon.

"Know it well, partner." Ponch looked at Jon. "Don't tell me you've got 'the feeling'."

Jon sidled a glance at Ponch.

Ponch laughed and shook his head. "Well look who finally became a believer. And when I think of all those times you laughed at me; said I'd just eaten a bad Ding Dong..."

"Okay, okay," laughed Jon. "I've been converted, alright?"

Ponch smiled smugly at his partner. He was about to rib Jon some more when Jon pointed to their left; a red van was swerving dangerously in and out of traffic on the opposite side of the freeway.

"Isn't it way too early for happy hour?" remarked Ponch as they put their lights on and crossed over onto the eastbound lanes.

"LA 15; 7 Mary 3 and 4 in pursuit of a brown, late 70's model GMC van; possible deuce heading east on the Ventura Freeway...," Jon radioed in to the dispatcher.

Ponch and Jon weaved easily between the late morning commuters and caught up to the van as Baricza called in to say he was responding.

They chased the van for a few miles down the freeway as it continued to swerve, cutting several people off and almost causing a serious accident. Suddenly, the van veered to the right onto the shoulder, narrowly missing the concrete barrier before finally coming to a stop with its brakes squealing in protest. Ponch and Jon pulled up behind it and climbed off their motors, moving slowly towards the van.

Ponch wrinkled his nose in disgust. "I think we've got a pothead."

"Careful, Ponch; you might get a contact high," said Jon, half jokingly.

Ponch edged his way to the driver's side of the van while Jon went to the passenger side.

"May I see your driver's license and registration, please?"

"Sure, dude," said the young, blond haired man happily, completely oblivious to the mayhem he'd caused. Ponch took one look at him (and another whiff of the inside of the van) and knew the guy was higher than a kite.

Ponch looked over the man's information. "Would you mind stepping from the vehicle, sir?" he asked in a stern tone.

Again the young man complied, acting like nothing was out of the ordinary.

"Step over to the barrier, please, sir."

"Yeah, no problem," replied the man hazily.

Ponch led the man to the barrier and away from the flow of traffic, then proceeded to pat him down while Jon searched the inside of the van.

"Hey, Ponch..."

Ponch looked up to see his partner holding up a plastic bag with a fair amount of marijuana in it. Ponch nodded and put the young man - whose mood had done an about face as he was now muttering expletives under his breath at being busted - in cuffs. As he was finishing reading the man his Miranda rights, Baricza pulled up behind the van.

"Whew..." sniffed Baricza when he reached Ponch. "I don't which is worse; the haze from the smog or from that van."

Ponch and Jon grinned.

"You know it's times like these I'm sure glad I'm not a car cop," joked Ponch.

"Yeah, you uh... might want to roll down all your cruiser windows there Bear," added Jon.

"I'll do that," said Barizca sarcastically, escorting the man to the patrol car.

Jon and Ponch exchanged glances and laughed as Ponch radioed in for a tow truck.


	2. Chapter 2

Ponch was flipping through his mail when he heard a rapid tapping noise coming from the reports room. Peering through the window, he saw Jon sitting at the long table tapping the eraser of his pencil distractedly. Ponch put his mail back into his box and walked into the room.

"Hey, switch to decaf, man."

Jon jumped slightly as he snapped out of his reverie, but then smiled at Ponch.

"You still got 'the feeling'?" Ponch asked, sitting on the edge of the table.

"Yeah," answered Jon. "I can't shake it. Something just doesn't seem right...like a big change is coming."

"Look, it's probably nothing, Jon. Maybe we'll see something bizarre out there today, or maybe Getraer'll lay into you for something. Or maybe worst case, you wreck your motor."

"Oh that makes me feel loads better," said Jon, his voice heavy with sarcasm.

"Just trying to help," winked Ponch. Then he clapped his good friend on the shoulder. "C'mon, we gotta go; we've got court in about forty minutes...and I need to make a snack run on the way."

"You and your snacks...," Jon groaned; he rolled his eyes but grinned at his partner as he did so.

As they were heading to the doorway, they both almost ran smack into Sergeant Getraer, who was hurriedly coming into the room.

"Whoa, where's the fire, Sarge?" joked Ponch.

Getraer glanced at Ponch but didn't answer. He instead turned his gaze on Jon.

"Uh, Baker, you've got a phone call."

"Oh...well would you mind taking a message Sarge? Ponch and I are due in court and..."

"No, Jon," interjected Getraer seriously. "You need to take this; it's your mother."

Jon felt his heart rate shoot up. In all the years he'd been with the CHP, his mother had never once called him at work, not even on his birthday. Something had to be wrong.

He quickly pushed past Getraer and a puzzled looking Ponch.

"You can use my office," Getraer called after him, though Jon was only half paying attention. He tried hard to calm himself, but his pulse continued to quicken with each step down the hall. When he reached Getraer's desk, Jon took a deep breath to steady his nerves as he picked up the receiver and pushed the blinking light on Getraer's phone.

"Mom?"

"Oh, Jon...I'm sorry to bother you at work," came the voice of Anne Baker. Jon detected a thickness in her voice that sounded as though she'd been crying; now he was positive something bad had happened.

"It's okay, mom," said Jon, trying not to sound as freaked out as he felt. "What's wrong?"

"It's your father, Jon. He's had a stroke."

Jon sat down on Getraer's desk in shock. "Is he alright?"

"He's alive, but the doctors don't know the extent of the damage yet," said Anne. "They don't know if he'll be able to talk, or walk, or if he'll..." her voice faltered and Jon could hear her sniffling on the other end.

"Look, mom, I'll get on the first flight out of LA today..."

"No," replied Anne, finding her voice again. "I wanted to call you to let you know, but seeing as I don't know anything yet you don't need to be here. They're trying to stabilize him right now and then who knows what will happen after that."

"But mom I - "

"No, Jon," said Anne firmly. "You just stay there and concentrate on work. You'll only make yourself crazy if you come here now."

Jon realized it would be a futile effort to continue to argue. His father was well known back home for being obstinate, but most people didn't realize that his mother was just as stubborn.

"Alright mom," sighed Jon, "but promise you'll call as soon as you know more, okay?"

"I will. Now you try not to worry and be safe alright? I don't want you in the hospital either."

"Yes, ma'am," replied Jon. He said his goodbye's to his mother and hung up the phone, then exhaled heavily as he ran a hand through his hair.

"Everything okay?" said a voice behind him.

Jon turned to see Ponch, with Getraer hot on his heels, standing in the doorway. Jon blinked, having not quite absorbed the enormity of the situation, and then shook his head slightly. "My father's in the hospital," he said slowly. "He's had a stroke."

"Oh, man, I'm sorry," said Ponch, coming into the office and resting a hand on his friend's shoulder.

"I'm sorry too, Jon. Listen, if you need to take some time off," said Getraer sympathetically, "you just let me know."

"Thank you, sir," said Jon, before glancing at his watch. "C'mon, Ponch, we need to go."

The two men were silent until they got outside; Jon still trying to wrap his brain around the news.

"Is he going to be alright?" asked Ponch.

"They don't know yet," said Jon. He shook his head. "I just can't believe it, y'know?"

Ponch nodded. "Just try to think positive, partner. They're making medical advances every day. I'm sure he'll pull through."

"Thanks, Ponch," said Jon mounting his bike. "I hope so."


	3. Chapter 3

Jon glanced at his watch: almost 11 PM, past his bedtime. He thought about packing it in for the night, but he had a feeling sleep wouldn't come easily. He sighed and then went back to mindlessly playing with the cowboy hat that had been on the end table by his couch. He hadn't heard from his mother since the late morning and his anxiety was starting to get the better of him. The phone had rung several times, but all the calls were from his friends and fellow officers offering sympathy and asking if Jon needed anything; in fact Ponch had already called twice. Jon appreciated their kindness, but at the same time felt frustrated as he wanted to keep the line open in case his mother called. Jon checked his watch again and tried to remind himself of the old saying that "no news is good news," but it wasn't helping.

Jon frowned and tossed the hat onto the saddle that sat across the room, then got up to look out onto his terrace, where the moon had cast a long, silvery sheath of light.

Finally, the ring of the phone in his kitchen broke the silence; Jon just about ran to answer it.

"Hello?" he asked anxiously.

"Hey partner, shouldn't you be in bed?"

"Ponch..." started Jon.

"I was just calling to make sure you weren't climbing the walls."

"Nah...I was just...reading," lied Jon.

"Uh-huh," said Ponch, knowing full well that Jon wasn't being honest. "See, this is why you need a TV, man."

"Look, I don't mean to be rude Ponch, but I kinda need to keep the phone line open..."

"Okay, okay" said Ponch. "I was just checking in. You should really try to get some sleep. Isn't it past 'the kid's' bedtime?"

Jon grinned in spite of himself; he hadn't used that nickname in years. "Yes, but uh.. somebody keeps calling me."

Ponch laughed. "Well don't forget we've got hot dates tomorrow night. You don't want to fall asleep during dinner do you?"

Jon smiled. "No, although with the kind of women you've been setting me up with lately, I might do that anyway."

"Hey, Shelly wasn't _that_ bad."

"Ponch, she was about as interesting as Grossman is thin."

At this Ponch laughed, causing Jon to do the same.

Jon said goodbye to Ponch and hung up the phone shaking his head, though he couldn't help chuckling a little as he did so. Just then the phone rang. For a split second Jon thought it might be Ponch again.

"Hello?" he answered tentatively.

"Hi sweetie."

Jon breathed a sigh of relief that it was his mother, and that even though she sounded exhausted, she sounded in slightly better spirits than earlier in the day.

"Hi mom."

"I tried a little while ago but your line was busy."

"Ponch..." he muttered under his breath.

"What was that?" asked his mother.

"Uh, nothing...what's the word?"

"Well, he's stable now, but the doctors still aren't sure the extent of the damage the stroke has left."

Jon exhaled audibly. "Well that's good news that he's stable; I guess we'll just have to wait now and hope for the best. What about you, mom...how are you holding up?"

"Oh, I'll manage. I'm just thankful your father's still here."

"Me too. Listen, I checked earlier and there's a flight out of LA that leaves tomorrow morning. Is dad at Memorial? I can catch a cab from the airport."

"Yes, he is. I know things with your father haven't been easy, Jon, but I think he'll really appreciate you coming. Dan's staying at the house to look after things, and try and keep up with some of the work, and Sarah and Wes will be coming in a couple of days."

"I'm glad to, mom. You sound exhausted...try and get some rest if you can. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

"Alright, honey."

They finished the call and Jon hung up the receiver. Then he called Sergeant Getraer, hoping he'd still be awake at this hour. Surprisingly he was, but only because his two year old son Christopher was sick and keeping his tired parents awake. He understood Jon's situation though and told him to take as much time off as he needed. After he finished with Getraer, Jon headed towards his bedroom as sleepiness was finally starting to kick in. He'd just taken off his shoes when he realized he should probably call Ponch; he'd want to know and he'd also have to know about Jon bailing on his part of the date. _Nah..._he thought; _I'll talk to him tomorrow morning. _Jon had changed into his pajamas when it dawned on him: Ponch had already called him three times...he had a vision of being rudely awakened from a deep slumber by his partner calling him again. He sighed; _I'd better call him now. _He went back to the kitchen and dialed Ponch's number.


	4. Chapter 4

"So, how long are you gonna stay in Wyoming?" asked Ponch. He was leaning up against the door frame to the reports room and watching Jon, who'd come in to Central on his way to the airport, fill out the requisite paperwork for time off.

"Uh...I'm not sure, Ponch," said Jon somewhat distractedly. "Probably just a couple of days."

"Seems like a long trip just for a couple of days."

Jon looked at Ponch and grinned. "You trying to get rid of me?"

"'Course not," said Ponch, grinning back. "You just don't seem to get home much, that's all. I thought you'd want to stay longer."

Jon shrugged. "It's a small place...I...get bored after a while when I'm home."

Jon glanced up at Ponch, who said nothing, but was giving him an "I'm not falling for that" smirk.

"What?" asked Jon, defensively.

"This wouldn't have anything to do with your relationship with your father, would it?"

Jon stopped writing; he could feel his face becoming flushed.

"It's complicated, Ponch..."

"Sure it is," said Ponch. "But your mom called this morning to say he's awake and responsive right? Now might be a perfect opportunity to un-complicate things and straighten out your relationship with your dad. And maybe he'll be cool with it; you know sometimes things like this make people have changes of heart. Remember that cranky pants Officer Hess? After he had that near fatal accident last year he became almost a different person."

"Look Ponch, you don't know my dad, okay?" Jon replied tersely; he could feel himself getting annoyed with Ponch for sticking his nose where it didn't belong.

"Well I feel like I do, with the way you talk about him. And you obviously inherited his stubbornness."

Jon started to protest again but Ponch cut him off. "Look, all I know is that if my dad was sick and I didn't know how much longer he might be around, I'd want to say my piece. Otherwise I might regret it."


	5. Chapter 5

Jon mulled over what Ponch had said to him all day: on the drive to the airport, the flight, the cab on the way to the hospital, and now in the elevator to the floor his father was on. Though he almost hated to admit it, Ponch was right and so Jon had decided to stay at least a week and to work up the gumption to talk to his father. But Jon felt that was easier said than done as he and his father hadn't had the greatest relationship in recent years.

David Baker was a very traditional man, and like most ranchers of his generation fully intended to give the ranch to his two sons. But Jon and his younger brother Dan wanted to follow their own paths and not be tied to the ranch their whole lives. Jon's path was moving to California and joining the CHP after he came back from Vietnam, and Dan's was earning his PhD in Anthropology and, come the fall, finally moving up from a TA to a position as one of the University of Wyoming's newest professors.

Jon closed his eyes and leaned against the back wall of the elevator; he could still picture the indignation in his father's face when he told him he was leaving the ranch.

"I've been working my fingers to the bone for you and your brother to be able to take over this ranch when I'm gone," David had fumed during one of their many arguments before Jon moved.

"I don't want the same things out of life that you want, dad; we're two different people!" Jon had shot back.

After both Jon and Dan renounced the family business, their father finally gave up trying to change his sons' minds, though his bitterness put on a strain on their relationships. Things had eased somewhat lately with Wes's interest in animal husbandry; no doubt Jon's father was excited to finally have someone in the family who showed the slightest interest in possibly carrying on the family ranch. But even so, a lingering tension was still present whenever Jon visited his family or talked to his father.

Jon opened his eyes as the elevator jerked and came to a stop. When the doors opened, a young man who looked more like a hippie than a college professor was standing on the other side. He caught sight of Jon and a broad grin appeared on his face.

"Hey, Jonny!"

Jon smiled at his younger brother and stepped off the elevator as the doors clamped shut loudly behind him.

"Hey, Dan, how's it goin'?" asked Jon, hugging his brother.

"Under the circumstances, not bad," replied Dan. "How about you?"

"Same. So...is this how new college professors dress these days?" teased Jon, looking over Dan's shaggy blond hair, faded jeans and t-shirt.

"Just the ones that aren't squares like their older brothers," replied Dan without missing a beat, running his eyes over Jon's collared shirt, blazer, and dark jeans.

Jon and Dan both laughed, then Jon turned serious. "How's Dad?"

"A little better; he was awake earlier and talking some with mom and I, but he's real weak and his speech is kind of muddled right now. And he can't seem to move the left side of his body. The doctor's going to be coming in any minute now to talk to mom about his prognosis...I was just running downstairs to the cafe to get some coffee. You want anything?"

"Nah, I'm good, thanks," said Jon.

The elevator buzzed and the doors opened. "Alright, I'll see you in the room," said Dan as he smacked Jon playfully on the arm and stepped in the elevator.

Jon walked down the hall to his father's room and knocked on the door. He could hear the shift of a chair on the linoleum floor, followed by soft footsteps. The door opened and his mother clasped her hands in front of her.

"Oh, Jon!" she cried, throwing her arms around her son and giving him a kiss on the cheek. "I'm so glad you're here."

"Me too. I hear Dad's doing a little better?"

"Yes," she said. "He's been sleeping for the past while - he had a rough morning - but he's been a little better today."

Jon peered in the room to see his father lying motionless on the bed and then blinked in disbelief. His father had never been seriously injured or sick with more than the flu, and he had always put on a tough front in the form of complaining and insisting on working. But now, his father looked so much older than Jon remembered, and vulnerable; something that Jon had never seen before. It was an odd sight to be sure.

They sat down in a couple of chairs near the window.

"You alright, mom?" asked Jon, taking her hand.

She gave Jon's hand a squeeze and nodded. Then she sighed. "You know Jon, I love your father to death but I sometimes wonder if he brought this on himself. Ever since his brother died, he's been doing twice the work on the ranch. I keep telling him to hire someone to help out, but you know how your father is when it comes to the ranch." She shook her head.

Jon patted his mother's hand. They sat in silence for a few minutes, watching David sleep, until the doctor entered the room, followed closely by Dan who was carrying two steaming cups of coffee.

"Mrs. Baker," said the doctor, nodding.

Dan sat down on the window's low ledge and handed a cup of coffee to his mother.

The doctor glanced at his clipboard and then looked up at the family.

"This is my other son, Jon," said Anne, as Jon stood up to shake the doctor's hand.

"Well, Mrs. Baker as I told you before your husband suffered a stroke in the right hemisphere of his brain. This has caused him to have left hemiplegia which is a paralysis of the left side of the body and is common with the type of stroke he had. Now, this may be overcome with time and physical therapy, but it's not a complete guarantee. He will need to be in a wheelchair and have someone assist him in most functions. He also seems to be having some spatial and perception difficulties which is also common with this type of stroke."

The doctor went on to discuss other possible complications, such as behavioral problems or short term memory loss, and how his father probably would not, and really should not at his age, be able to return to work on the ranch. Jon could see a crease in his mother's brow indicating her worry. He squeezed her hand, hoping to convey to her that things would be alright.

When the doctor left, Jon asked his mother to go for a walk with him down the hall. Dan stayed behind at their dad's bedside in case he woke up.

As they left the room, Jon put his arm around his mother.

"It's going to be alright, mom."

She sighed heavily. "I hope so. He's just...he's got such a long road ahead of him, Jon."

"Dad's tough...he can make it," Jon said, trying to reassure his mother. "Though we'll probably have to hog-tie him."

Anne laughed lightly. "True; your father is not the type of man who can sit still. He won't take too kindly to not being able to work or do for himself."

Jon then asked a serious question. "Mom, what about the ranch? If dad can't work, what are you going to do?"

"I don't know Jon," she said, her voice wavering a little.

"Why don't you just sell it?" asked Jon, coming to a stop. "You and dad could move out to California and be near Sarah, Wes and I."

His mother shook her head. "You're father won't hear of it, Jon."

"But if it turns out Wes doesn't want it you'd probably end up having to sell anyway, so why not just do it now?"

"Because of your father's stubborn pride...that ranch is just too much a part of him to give it up."

"And you don't think he'll hire anyone?" asked Jon, starting to walk again.

"No..."

"Even if he can't do the work himself?"

"He won't do it, Jon. Ever since Patrick Simpson he's refused. "

Jon cocked an eyebrow. "Who?"

"Patrick Simpson. You know, Doug's boy?"

Jon was still drawing a blank.

"Oh that's right...that was the summer that you were in..._away_," began Anne, who even after so many years still could not bring herself to name the place - and the war - that had made her terrified for a whole year that she would never see Jon again; the memory of the day she found out the local butcher's son had been killed, causing her to break down in hysterics in the middle of the shop with fear for her own son's life, still entrenched firmly in her mind. "Dan had tried to make Rusty jump a hay bale, and at the last second that poor horse decided he wanted no part of it and threw Dan off him. Well, Dan broke his arm and couldn't work, so dad hired Patrick to help him and Uncle Matthew. But Patrick, bless his heart, didn't really know what he was doing, and it's soured your father on hiring someone ever since.

"But that was years ago," said Jon exasperatedly.

"I know that dear, but of course it doesn't make a lick of difference to your father. And now he feels that most of the boys in town don't appreciate ranch life anymore and so would be completely unreliable ranch hands." Anne sighed again. "I don't think God Himself could make your father budge."

When he and Anne got to the end of the hall, they headed back to the room, where they found his father awake.

His father smiled weakly at Jon, as Jon went to his father's bedside.

"Hi, Dad. How are you doing?"

"Thankful to still be on God's green earth," he replied weakly.

"Me too, dad, me too."


	6. Chapter 6

Come the evening, Jon and his father were alone in the hospital room as Dan and his mother had left to go check on things back home, and bring back some contraband food for David, who couldn't stomach the undercooked hospital fare.

His father had just returned from more tests, and the two were sitting quietly, while the television on the wall provided background noise in the form of a baseball game.

Jon wasn't sure what say...he thought about what Ponch had told him just before he left LA, but his father was still very weak, and Jon worried that maybe this wasn't the right time. Plus, he was afraid of opening old wounds.

Then, as if reading Jon's mind, his father broke the silence. "Y'know Jon, a scare like this makes a man reevaluate his priorities and principles," he said, his usually strong, rich tone of voice still thin with exhaustion and strain. He paused a moment to look over at his son. "I won't pretend that you and your brother not wanting to take over the ranch didn't hurt, but...I realize now that you both are your own men and had to go your own ways. Holding a grudge over it all these years was wrong of me and..." he hesitated, "I'm sorry."

Jon felt sure his jaw had just hit the floor; he sat in shocked silence.

"I was too stubborn to admit it," his father continued, "but when you became a police officer I was so proud...still am in fact. You've grown into a good man, Jon."

Jon beamed at his father, and then clasped his father's worn hand. "Thanks, dad...that really means a lot. It's something I always wanted to talk to you about but it was hard to bring up...you know I have too much of your bull headedness in me."

His father chuckled. "That you do, son."

"Anyways, dad, I hope we can put this all behind us and move on...go back to the way things were."

"I'd like that," his father said, smiling.

They sat again in silence for a bit, until Jon felt the question could no longer be avoided.

"So what are you going to do about the ranch, dad?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well...you won't be able to do much on it and really...you can't run the ranch by yourself anymore."

Jon's father shot him a hard look, and for a moment Jon thought that maybe he'd just caused the relationship to take a step backwards.

"Well of course I can't work right now," conceded his father, "but I'll get better Jon, and then things will be back to normal."

Jon hesitated. "But...with Uncle Matthew being gone don't you think it might be a good idea to hire someone to help you out? And then...what if you don't get better?"

"I will get better," his father said firmly despite his weakened voice. "And I will _not_ hire outside help. Ever since I hired that fool Patrick Simpson I promised myself that ranch would be run by family only, just as it was done before."

"But it could still technically be run by you, just with someone helping."

"No. Besides," David sighed, "to be honest with you I don't think we'd have enough to pay for a ranch hand. I haven't told your mother this yet, so don't you say a word to her; I don't want to add to her worry." A frown crossed David's face before he continued. "We had a bad year, Jon...the long and short of it is that it seems we're losing more money than bringing in right now, and paying someone else just wouldn't be feasible."

"Why don't you just retire and sell the ranch then, dad? You guys could move out to California and be close to family."

"You know how I feel about that, Jon. As long as I'm alive that ranch stays mine. Besides that I've got to keep it running for Wes. Dan's going to help out until the fall, and Sarah said that Wes will stay to help for the summer too."

"But that's still not enough, dad," protested Jon.

"Well it's just going to have to be that way until we figure something else out. I won't sell and that's the last I want to hear about it."


	7. Chapter 7

Jon tossed and turned in bed that night; his mind heavy with conflicting thoughts about the ranch. He had taken a look at the ranch's books when he'd arrived home and his father was right: they couldn't afford to hire a ranch hand to help out. Even if his father fully recovered, at almost 75 years of age he really shouldn't be working the ranch anymore at all. Jon knew that one man really couldn't run the ranch successfully alone even though his father had tried; though nearly killing himself, and in a way, the ranch's future, in the process. Wes was inexperienced and even with Dan's help and his father potentially on limited duty, they'd never make it. Not only that, but even if they could afford to upgrade to some of the new automated ranch equipment, David Baker believed in running the ranch the old fashioned way, which meant everything was done by human hands. And then what would happen in the fall when Wes returned to college and Dan started his teaching position? Dan said he'd help out when he could during the school year, but as he'd just gotten his job with the university, he wasn't about to relinquish it. With no one else in the family left to help out, the scary thought of leaving the CHP and working on the ranch to keep his parents from going under had entered Jon's mind. He didn't want to give up the job he loved, but all the same he felt a strong sense of responsibility towards his family.

After finally falling into a restless sleep at around 2 AM, Jon woke up much later than usual the next morning. Sleepily pulling on his robe, he went to the kitchen to get himself some breakfast before changing and going out to help Dan, who was already out working on the ranch, and who had also left a fresh box of donuts on the table. Jon poured himself a cup of coffee and had sat down to read the paper when he heard a knock at the front door. But before he could answer it, the door opened and a tall, curly haired young man entered the foyer.

"Well hey, Uncle Jon!"

"Hey, Wes!" said Jon shaking his nephew's hand.

"Wes, could you please help...?"

"Oh, sorry mom..." Wes quickly grabbed a large suitcase from his mother and set it by the door.

She shook her head at her son with a grin, and then hugged her brother.

"Jon it's so good to see you! We live so close but with both of our jobs keeping us busy I feel like we've hardly gotten a chance to get together lately."

"Yeah...it's good to see you too, Sarah. How was your flight?"

"Early," said Wes, who had made his way to the kitchen to look for something to eat.

"Some of us have to get up at 5:30 _every_ morning," retorted Sarah, tucking a strand of mid-length blond hair behind her ear. "Anyways, we hit a thunderstorm along the way so we got bounced around pretty good, but other than that it was uneventful."

Jon and Sarah went to the kitchen where Wes was pouring himself a large mugful of coffee. "So when's Grampa being released from the hospital?" he asked.

"Hopefully Monday," answered Jon.

"I haven't talked to him since yesterday morning; how's he doing?" asked Sarah.

"He's doing alright; still weak and unable to move the left side of his body, but his spirits are up."

"We are talking about dad, right?" joked Sarah.

Jon chuckled. "Yeah, he hasn't uttered one complaint yet, though I think he's deluded himself into thinking he'll be able work again."

Sarah shook her head, knowing their father's stubborn work ethic would make him want to be back at it on the ranch as soon as he came home, no matter what anyone would say to him to the contrary. She joined Jon and Wes at the kitchen table, where the latter quickly stocked up on several donuts.

Sarah frowned. "That boy is going to eat us all out of house and home."

"Yeah, well if you had to subsist on college food you'd be hungry too," said Wes with his mouth full; Sarah handed him a napkin.

"Has dad said anything about the ranch?"

"Oh, he's said lots," replied Jon, "just not anything that any of us want to hear."

"He won't sell, will he?" asked Sarah, frowning again.

"Nope. And he won't hire anyone to help either."

"Oh that man..."said Sarah in a frustrated tone.

"Hey, I said I'd help, remember?" asked Wes.

"Yes honey, but it's not enough," said Sarah. "I cannot for the life of me understand why he won't hire someone else. And if he uses Patrick Simpson as an excuse I'll scream. Patrick might have been a dim bulb, but he wasn't the idiot dad made him out to be. Dad just doesn't like people doing things differently than _his_ way."

"Well, he's actually got a good reason this time," said Jon. "He can't afford to hire anyone."

Sarah started to go pale. "They're losing money, aren't they?"

Jon nodded solemnly. "Dad hasn't told mom yet...though if she does know she's hiding it really well. But I looked over the books; he really can't afford to pay a ranch hand."

"When he told me that things had been rough lately I thought he meant having to do double the work. It didn't even occur to me to think that they were rough financially. Oh, if he would only listen to reason and sell..." sighed Sarah.

"We could probably argue with him until we're blue in the face," said Jon, "and he wouldn't do it. He's bound and determined to hold on to this place until he's gone, or until Wes possibly takes it."

"I could quit school and take it now," said Wes helpfully.

"You will not," said Sarah vehemently. "You've only got one year left Wes and your education is far too important. You can help out on breaks but under no circumstances will you stop school."

"But Grampa said the ranch could be mine if I wanted it, so I may as well start now..."

"I said no," said Sarah in a tone that would rival the toughest order from Sergeant Getraer. "Wes, if you stop now you'll only regret it later. We'll figure something out."

Wes frowned but didn't say anymore; the Baker stubborn streak was just as prevalent in his mother and he was too hungry at that moment to argue. He went back to eating his donuts for the time being.

"Well, Dan's helping out for the summer and when he can during the school year," said Jon, "and...I think I'm going to move home to help out."

"You're going to give up the CHP?" exclaimed Wes, donut crumbs flying out of his mouth.

Jon swallowed hard. "Yes..."

"Jon, are you sure?" asked Sarah.

"Not exactly...but I'm sure I need to do what's right for our family."


	8. Chapter 8

Even though Jon had basically made up his mind, and had told his deeply appreciative parents so, he had trouble sleeping again that night as every time he'd start to feel better about his decision, a nagging sense of apprehension would creep back into his head. He woke early all the same though thanks to the sun shining brightly through his old bedroom window the next morning. When he stretched he could feel the tightness in his muscles as he was a little sore from digging and mending some fences around the ranch yesterday, which he would be hopefully finishing up today. Indeed, he finished his share of the ranch work by lunchtime, so being free to do what he pleased, he decided to go for a hike; he thought maybe getting away from everything would help clear his mind. Luckily he found an old pair of hiking boots in his closet that were a little snug, but could still be worn. He packed a knapsack with some snacks and a canteen full of water, then set out for the hour drive to Rock Creek in his father's old beat up truck.

There were a few cars already there when Jon arrived; after days of cloudy skies, the clear summer weather on that Sunday morning had obviously brought out a lot of folks to enjoy the trail and its scenery. He climbed out of the cab, gathered his things and began his hike.

Jon was enjoying the solitude when, about fifteen minutes into his hike, he came upon a woman with her back to him just ahead at a narrow spot in the trail. With the forest on one side, there was no easy way to get around her except by crossing in front of her, so Jon, being polite, said "excuse me," and started to cross her path. He stopped abruptly though, realizing she was taking a photograph.

When the camera clicked and she took it away from her face, he spoke. "I didn't ruin your picture, did I?"

The young woman smiled slightly. "I don't think so, though I'll have to wait until I develop the film to be sure."

Jon felt embarrassed. "I'm real sorry if I did. I didn't see the camera until too late."

"It's alright," she said reassuringly. "And at least you stopped; some people just keep right on going. I've got a darkroom full of profile shots of complete strangers."

Jon laughed. "You develop your own film?" he asked.

The woman nodded. "That's right."

"You must either be an enthusiast or a professional."

She smiled more broadly this time, and Jon couldn't help but notice how attractive she was.

"Both," she replied. "I love photography, so I figured, why not make a career out of it?"

"Well, it's always nice when you find a job you love," replied Jon with a tinge of disappointment.

She nodded. "Makes it not feel like work."

They looked at each other for a moment; Jon was unsure of whether to continue the conversation or not.

"Well...," he began awkwardly, "I guess I'd better continue on."

"Enjoy your hike," she said, smiling again.

Jon smiled back, then turned and walked away, though he glanced back to look at the woman, who was busy fiddling with her camera. He thought briefly about going back and introducing himself as she seemed nice, but an uncharacteristic shyness kept him continuing on his way. He'd felt rather unlucky in the 'dating game' lately and as a result had become a bit gun shy, prompting Ponch to set him up with vapid women. He chuckled to himself though when he thought of what Ponch would say if he were here; he'd never let Jon hear the end of it for walking away from an attractive woman.

As Jon debated on what to do, he heard a shriek, followed by the sound of cracking sticks and a soft thud. He turned to see the young woman sprawled on the ground with her right hand up in the air, still clutching her camera.

Sensing something was wrong, he went back towards the woman.

"Everything okay?" he asked; he could see her left foot caught in a tangle of tree roots and brush.

"Uh...yeah..." said the woman, who, at the sight of Jon, blushed scarlet.

"Did you hurt yourself?"

She shook her head as she checked over her camera before putting it back into her bag. "No...well except for my pride."

Jon chuckled. "Here, let me help you," he said, helping her get to her feet.

"Thank you."

"Sure."

She put her weight on her left ankle, and let out a cry of pain.

"Looks like you hurt more than just your pride," remarked Jon.

He helped her onto the trail, where she again tried to put her weight on her ankle and winced.

The woman hobbled over to a downed tree nearby and sat down to examine her ankle; even from where Jon was standing he could see that it was swollen.

"Can you move it at all?" he asked.

She winced again but was able to rotate her ankle.

"If you can move it it's probably not broken, but you should probably have it looked at to be sure. Did you drive yourself here?"

She nodded and carefully stood up.

"C'mon, I'll walk you down," said Jon.

"No, that's okay," she said waving Jon off. "I can manage."

"No, please," said Jon. "You should have someone with you, just in case."

"Alright..." she said resignedly, and began walking, or rather limping, with Jon following suit.

"Thank you...I guess I'm just not used to the kindness of strangers," she said, a look of embarrassment crossing her face. "And I hate for you to have to mess up your hike."

"It's no problem," replied Jon. "My name's Jon Baker by the way."

"Abby Foster," she said, extending her hand. "Nice to meet you."

"Likewise," smiled Jon, as he shook her hand. "If you don't mind my asking, what happened back there?"

Abby frowned. "I was trying to set up another shot and I needed to take a few steps backwards. But when I did, my foot got caught in those tree roots and I lost my balance."

Jon could see Abby struggling to walk on her own. "Why don't you put your arm around me, it might make it easier for you."

Abby stopped and looked at him.

Jon smiled, and held up his hands. "I mean that completely innocently; it'd just help keep some of the weight off your ankle, that's all."

Abby hesitated.

"I could carry you instead," suggested Jon, teasingly.

Abby bit her lower lip nervously, but then relented and put her arm around Jon; he felt her relax as they took a few steps together.

"Better?"

Abby blushed deep red again. "Yes," she admitted. "I'm sorry I..."

"No, it's okay," Jon interjected. "You're smart to be cautious. But you can trust me, I promise. Would it make you feel better to know that I'm a cop?" With that, he pulled out his wallet from his back pocket and showed her his badge and identification.

"You're a California Highway Patrol officer?"

"That's right."

"Wow. What brings you all the way out to Wyoming?"

"I'm originally from Rawlins-"

"Get out!"

Jon laughed. "Yeah; grew up on a ranch out there. Are you from around here?"

"Yup, I'm from Saratoga."

"Really? I went to Lake Saratoga to fish a few times when I was a kid "

Abby's eyes lit up. "Small world - I used to live right near the lake. My dad and I still go fishing there all the time."

"Oh, that's great," said Jon.

"So are you just out here for a vacation then, or visiting family, or both?"

"My father had a stroke a couple of days ago and is in the hospital."

"Oh, I'm so sorry. "

"Thank you. He's doing alright but still has a ways to go, so I'm going to be staying for a while to help out." replied Jon.

"Well I hope recovers soon."

Jon smiled as they continued down the trail. They were quiet for a few moments until he got the conversation going again. "What all do you photograph?"

"Well, basically everything," replied Abby. "I work in a studio downtown and I do weddings, portraits, school pictures; things like that."

Jon nodded.

"Though my favorite things to photograph are landscapes and still life, and animals. I'm trying to put together a portfolio to do some free-lance work."

They had finally reached the parking area, and Abby pointed in the direction of her car. "It's the red Volkswagen Rabbit, just over there."

When they reached the car, Jon glanced in the window and noticed that Abby's car was a manual.

"Listen, why don't I drive you to your doctor?" asked Jon. "My truck is just across the way."

"No, that's okay, Jon. I think I can make it."

"Abby, that's a manual car. Do you really think you can manage the clutch?"

Abby started to open her mouth to say something, but stopped. She fiddled with her car keys, unsure of what to do.

"You've been so nice, Jon...I... I don't want to impose."

"It's not an imposition, really. I'd rather you get to the doctor safely then get into an accident because you can't drive properly."

Seeing Jon would not be persuaded otherwise, she accepted his offer.

Jon helped her into the truck and then drove out to the emergency care office in Saratoga. They continued chatting with each other on the way, swapping childhood stories of fishing, rodeos and fairs. Jon was struck by how easy it was to talk to Abby; they had only just met but it was like they were old friends.

At the doctor's office, he sat out in the waiting area reading an old magazine until finally Abby came limping towards him.

"You doing okay?"

"A little sore, but fine," she replied. "The doctor says I just hyper-extended it. I'm to stay off it as much as possible, ice it and take a pain reliever."

"Well I'm glad it's not serious."

"Yeah, me too," said Abby, brushing her bangs out of her eyes, which Jon noticed were a very pretty hazel. "Look, someone is on the way to pick me up so you don't have to stick around if you don't want to; I'm sure you've got much better things to do than sit around a doctor's office all day. But I just wanted to thank you so much again for your kindness today. And...I'd like to make it up to you if I could."

Jon smiled. "You're welcome, but you don't have to make it up to me. It was no trouble."

"C'mon," she coerced, "at least let me take you out to dinner or something."

"Well...if you insist," grinned Jon. Truth be told, even though he honestly didn't feel that Abby owed him anything, deep down he didn't want to pass up a chance to see her again.

"I do," she said grinning back. "Would tomorrow evening be alright? I'd offer to go out tonight but...well..." She gestured towards her ankle.

"Sure," replied Jon.

Abby had some paper and a pencil in her bag, so they exchanged information and made plans for Abby to pick Jon up the following evening.


	9. Chapter 9

Jon hoped that he would finally get a decent night's sleep that night as he was tired from the past few days, but it was not to be as a feeling of trepidation continued to wash over him every time he thought about resigning from the patrol. Though Jon loved being in wide open spaces and some of the more relaxing aspects of life in the country, all the ranch work had reminded him of the downsides of ranch life, and he was scared to give up his job, friends, and life in LA. Plus, resigning just seemed so final, like he'd be giving up the CHP forever.

But as evening fell after a hard day's work and Jon got himself cleaned up, he began looking forward to seeing Abby again. He waited in the quiet house for her to arrive as Anne, Sarah, Wes, and Dan had gone to the hospital to visit David. He was supposed to have been released that afternoon but had suffered a setback when, in a fit of independence, he decided to try and walk to the bathroom himself while no one was in the room. Forgetting he couldn't put his weight on his left leg he crumpled onto the floor and broke his left arm, so he was now going to be released tomorrow instead. Jon was glad to be alone though as he would have continued to get the ribbing his siblings and nephew had been giving him all afternoon for going out on a "date." And even though Jon and Dan were much older now, he still hadn't quite forgotten the time when, as a shy sixteen year old, he had invited his first ever girlfriend Maureen over for dinner with the family, minus Sarah who was away in college. Dan had basically done all he could to embarrass his older brother during the meal, like telling Maureen about how Jon had cried the first time he fell off his horse as a child. Then, after Jon had kissed Maureen goodnight on the porch, he turned around to see Dan, acting much more immature than his thirteen years, making faces at them from the living room window. As soon as Maureen had pulled out of the driveway, Jon dashed into the house and chased his little brother until their father finally hollered for them to knock it off.

Jon went about straightening up the living room a bit until he heard the sound of a car crunching on the gravel driveway. He stepped out onto the porch to see Abby getting out of her car and ambling towards him; she was still limping but was walking better than yesterday.

He met her halfway to the porch and smiled brightly at her; he was happy to see her again and be in her company. She looked lovely as well: her long, honey colored hair was down and parted to the side rather than in the ponytail she had sported yesterday, and the light green sweater she wore brought out her hazel eyes.

"How's the ankle?"

"It's better, thanks. Still a little sore and swollen, but better than yesterday. I'm just glad I could fit it into my shoe and drive," she laughed.

As they were heading to the car, she caught sight of the stable behind the house.

"How many horses do you have?" she asked.

"Just two now, though we had five when I was young."

Jon paused, looking at the interested look on Abby's face. "You want to see them?"

"I'd love to, if you don't mind?"

"Not at all."

Jon led Abby to the stable and showed her the ranch's two horses: Stormy, a dark grey Quarter mare, and Russet, a beautiful Quarter colt named for his coloring.

"You seem real comfortable around horses," remarked Jon as Abby gently stroked Russet's muzzle. "Do you ride?"

"Used to," she replied.

"Used to?"

"I grew up on a horse farm. My mom was a champion rider when she was young and she ran her own riding school, which was on our land. We had six horses." Abby explained.

Abby looked up and saw the expectant look on Jon's face, then sighed before continuing. "When I was a junior in high school my mom passed away from cancer, and with all the hospital bills and funeral costs, we had to sell the stables, the land, the house, everything to stay afloat."

"Oh...I'm sorry... " said Jon sincerely.

Abby gave a small smile. "Thanks."

They were quiet for a few moments until Jon spoke again. "Do you miss riding?"

"Sure. I mean, I was old enough to understand why we had to sell, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't disappointed when we did. I used to help teach riding lessons and I just loved to go riding on my own. It was always great therapy, y'know? If I'd had a bad day I'd just get on my horse and _ride..._and all my troubles just seemed to get left in the dust."

"I know what you mean," said Jon. "Have you thought about getting a horse of your own?"

"Oh, sure, lots of times. But between camera and development equipment, film, and the payments on my car, money's tight right now. I can't even afford to move out of my dad's house," she admitted sheepishly; Jon caught the red flare of embarrassment fill her cheeks.

"Well that's understandable," said Jon consolingly. "I thought I was going to have to live at the academy when I first started with the CHP."

Abby laughed. "So do you still ride?"

"Yeah," Jon replied. "My horse, Old Grey, is stabled near my place in LA and I'll be bringing him here when I move back. I haven't gotten to ride quite as much as I used to with my job keeping me busy, but I try to do it as often as I can."

"You're lucky," she said wistfully as Jon began closing up the stable.

"You could come here and go riding any time you like," offered Jon before he realized what he'd just said; his mouth had gone faster than his brain and now he worried that he'd gotten too ahead of himself.

"I'd like that." Abby's cheeks went red again, though secretly Jon liked it when she blushed so.

"So what does your father do?" asked Jon as they walked back to Abby's car.

"He's a fire fighter," replied Abby. "He..uh...actually wanted me to bring you to our house for dinner, to thank you for being good to me yesterday, but I didn't think that would be such a good idea."

"Why's that?" asked Jon, buckling his seat belt.

"I'm my father's only child and especially since my mother died he's been very...over protective. I didn't want to subject you to the Spanish inquisition."

Jon laughed as Abby fired up her car.

"So where would you like to eat?" she asked. "It's your choice."

Jon selected an Italian restaurant downtown where he used to go with his family growing up.

At dinner, they again found conversation easy, and before he knew it, Jon found himself telling her all about the ranch and the hard decision he'd made to give up the CHP and stay in Wyoming; how he didn't want to leave LA but felt he needed to help his family. Abby listened sympathetically.

When he was done talking Jon suddenly felt embarrassed. "I'm sorry...here I am basically talking your ear off about my problems."

Abby chuckled. "That's alright, I don't mind. Besides, I spilled my guts to you earlier, so it was only fair." She winked at him before taking a sip of her drink.

Jon grinned. "You're just...easy to talk to," he said, feeling his face become hot; in fact the whole restaurant felt like it had gotten about ten degrees warmer.

"Thanks, you too," Abby replied, biting her lower lip nervously as a pink flush came into her face.

They smiled at each other then, their obvious attraction for each other now becoming much more palpable.

When they had finished their dinner and a shared slice of chocolate cake for dessert, Abby, true to her word, sprang for the check, though Jon insisted on leaving the tip. Then, they returned to the Baker house, where Jon was relieved to see his family was still out. As they both exited Abby's car, he noticed her stumbling on the uneven gravel.

"You okay?" he asked, rushing to her side.

Abby gripped the open car door and leaned up against her Volkswagen. "I think my ankle is starting to rebel against these shoes...it's just a little sore, that's all."

"Are you going to be alright to drive home?"

Abby smiled and shivered slightly in the chilly night air. "I'll be fine."

They were quiet for a moment, listening to the sound of the crickets and the breeze rustling in the trees.

"Thank you for dinner," Jon said, finally breaking the silence.

"Oh, you're welcome. Thank you again for yesterday."

Jon smiled. Then they stood in silence again, caught in that post-date awkwardness where both were unsure of what to say or do.

"Look, Jon, I know this wasn't technically a date...well, maybe it was...," Abby stammered. For all their easy conversation she suddenly found herself tongue tied. "But...I had a real nice time with you tonight... and I'd like to see you again...that is...I mean...if you'd maybe...like to see m-"

Abby was cut off by Jon leaning forward and kissing her gently. She pulled back quickly and blinked in surprise. Jon felt his face grow hot with embarrassment; he really liked Abby and thought she felt the same, but maybe he'd been too forward.

"I'm sorry...I -"

He was suddenly stopped mid-sentence by the soft pressure of Abby's lips against his; this time it was Jon who pulled back in surprise. Abby bit her lower lip sheepishly, before they both smiled and laughed at their teenage-like nervousness. Jon drew Abby close to him and she wrapped her arms around his neck as they kissed again, reveling in the thrill of new romance.

All too soon though it was time for Abby to leave and make the forty-five minute drive back to Saratoga; Jon hated to see her go, but they made plans to talk and see each other again. As he watched Abby back out of the drive way, he suddenly had that feeling of a change coming hit him again, only this time it was a positive vibe; that maybe his unlucky streak in love was about to end, and that maybe staying in Wyoming wouldn't be quite as tedious as he thought after all.


	10. Chapter 10

Jon awoke from a deep sleep the next morning to Dan beating on his bedroom door; there was much to be done and Jon had overslept. Jon rolled over, glanced at the clock on his bedside table and then grumbled because he knew what over sleeping meant. He, Dan and Wes had come up with a duty schedule for dividing up the ranch work for the rest of the summer, as well as a "punishment" if one of them was to oversleep. Wes had even inadvertently coined a saying for whomever was the late riser: "If you're the last to snore, you muck the manure." Being a college student, it was Wes who had fallen victim to his own adage the past couple of days, but today Jon was the lucky one.

After a very long shower that afternoon, Jon finally made himself call Getraer and tell him that he'd be resigning from the CHP, effective immediately. Nervously, he dialed and asked the central dispatcher to patch him through to his sergeant.

"Hello?"

"Hi Sarge...it's Jon."

"Hey Jon; how are things in Wyoming?"

"Alright. Look Joe, I..."

"How's your father doing?"

"He's better, thanks. He's paralyzed on one side of his body though and can't work...which is why I'm calling." Jon took a deep breath, and then blurted out, "I'm resigning from the patrol."

There was silence on the other end.

"Come again?" Getraer finally said.

"I...I'm resigning from the patrol," said Jon. "I'm going to move back to Wyoming and help out on the ranch."

"Are you sure?"

Jon sighed; he was starting to get tired of that question as everyone asked him that as soon as he told them his plans. "To be honest, no...but I have to do this for my family."

Getraer was quiet for a minute. "Well, I understand Jon, though I really hate to lose you. But do you really want to resign?"

"No...I mean...what other choice do I have?"

"Well, you could just take an indefinite leave of absence. That way you'll still have a spot secured here and there won't be so much to go through when you come back."

"But I don't know when I'll be back..." _or if I'll be back_, thought Jon, though he quickly tried to push that thought from his mind.

"Well, we'll just cross that bridge when we get to it," replied Getraer, not wanting to think long-term either.

Jon's face brightened a little. Knowing that he could take a leave of absence instead of quitting - which had seemed so much more final and despairing - made him feel like all hope was not lost.

"That'd be great, Sarge."

"Alright; I'll have the papers ready for you when you come back into town."

Jon exhaled with a feeling of relief as he hung up the phone. Now all that was left was telling Ponch...a thought which sent Jon right back into his state of uneasiness.


	11. Chapter 11

On Tuesday evening, David Baker finally returned home much to the relief of his wife and children, and they had a barbecue to celebrate. Jon spent the next couple of days working the ranch with Dan and Wes under their father's watchful eye; as predicted he may not have been able to actually join in the work but he still made his presence known. He also called and made arrangements to have most of his furniture and other belongings put into storage back in LA, ended the lease on his apartment, and informed the stable where he kept Old Grey that he'd be taking his horse with him back to Wyoming.

The day before Jon left, he decided to call Ponch to check in.

"Hey partner! How goes it in Wyoming?"

"Busy," replied Jon.

"I'm sure. How's your dad?"

"He's doing alright. He had a little bit of a setback on Monday, but he came home Tuesday and is driving everybody nuts by trying to have a hand in everything."

Ponch laughed. "I'll bet. So you're still coming home tomorrow, right?"

Jon hesitated. "Yeah, but..."

"Cool. You wanna get together for dinner and catch up?"

"Sure, but look Ponch..."Jon paused. How was he going to tell his partner and best friend that he was only coming back for a couple of days to collect his things and move to Wyoming? He decided that maybe it was a conversation best left to a face to face meeting.

"Yeah?" asked Ponch when Jon didn't continue right away.

"I'll uh...call you when I get in, alright?"

"Sounds good, partner."

Jon sighed and hung up the phone.

That evening, Jon drove to Saratoga and had dinner with Abby, finally meeting her father who turned out to be more docile than Abby had made him out to be. Indeed, the two men had a lot in common as they both had similar careers and were both basically country boys at heart.

As Abby walked Jon to his father's truck, she noticed that he seemed preoccupied.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

"What? Oh...sorry," mumbled Jon. "I was just thinking about my trip back to LA tomorrow."

"And?"

Jon chuckled, and then rested his elbows on the hood of the old truck as Abby did the same next to him.

"...and how I'm going to be leaving a lot of things behind when I move back here; my job, my friends, and one person in particular -"

"You don't already have a girlfriend do you?" asked Abby, cocking an eyebrow.

Jon grinned and playfully nudged her shoulder with his. "Yeah...you, hopefully."

Abby smiled broadly and nudged him back, before linking her right arm in his left and taking hold of his hand.

"It's my partner, Ponch," continued Jon. "Not only has he been my partner for the last five years, but he's my best friend, and... I don't know how to tell him I'm leaving or how he'll react and I just...I just didn't realize how hard it'd be..."

He glanced at Abby and then hung his head. "I guess that sounds silly."

"No," replied Abby soothingly. "When you're that close to someone, it's hard to leave them. But I like to think that those close to us never really go away in spirit. Somehow they're always around; as if we take a piece of them with us, and leave a piece of ourselves behind." She gave Jon's hand a squeeze. "Besides, if Ponch is truly your best friend, he'll understand."

Jon nodded. "Thanks," he said quietly.

He and Abby lingered there for a while longer, not really talking but enjoying being close to one another, until Jon checked his watch and saw it was getting late.

"Well, I guess I'd better get going..."

Abby smiled and squeezed his hand again.

"See you when you get back?"

"You got it," replied Jon, giving her a kiss goodbye.


	12. Chapter 12

It was a very fidgety Jon, who had made good on calling Ponch when he got back to LA, that sat across from Ponch in a booth at one of their favorite restaurants the following evening.

"Did you talk to your dad?" asked Ponch as he and Jon waited for their dinners to arrive.

"Yeah...amazingly he was the one who brought it up," replied Jon. "We had a good chat and he apologized."

"See, what'd I tell you?" said Ponch happily. Jon laughed at the puckish delight on his partner's face.

"So, with your dad out of commission, is he going to give in and sell?"

"No," said Jon, sipping his drink. "The whole family has practically begged him to since he's losing money. We've even tried to get him to just sell pieces of land but he's got too much pride to let it go, not to mention his stubbornness."

Ponch nodded. "So what's your family going to do?"

"Well, my brother Dan is going to help out for the summer and when he can since he lives relatively close, which will be good. Wes wanted to put off his last year of college but of course my sister had a lot to say about that, so he's just going to help out over the summer and on school breaks. And..." Jon paused and drew in a long breath. "I've decided to move back to Wyoming and help out too."

Ponch's face fell. "You're...you're leaving?"

Jon swallowed hard and nodded soberly. "I mean, even if my father miraculously recovered tomorrow, at his age he really shouldn't be working the ranch at all anymore, and Dan can't manage by himself. And since we can't afford to hire anyone to help out, that really only leaves me."

"How long are you going to be gone?"

"I...I don't know; I don't know when I'll be back or if...,"a lump caught in Jon's throat and he couldn't finish the sentence that he'd tried so hard to keep out of his mind.

Ponch was very quiet; he wasn't sure what to make of the situation. His partner...his best friend...leaving? Possibly for good?

After a few minutes, Jon glanced at a wounded looking Ponch who was still eerily quiet.

"Look Ponch, I wish I didn't have to do this, but my family needs me."

Ponch exhaled slowly. "I guess I understand...if I was in your shoes I'd probably do the same thing too."

Jon felt his spirits lift slightly.

"It won't be the same without you though, that's for sure."

"Yeah," said Jon, "for all the times I complained about the job I'm really going to miss it..." He was going to add to that sentence, but the waitress brought them their food.

"So have you submitted your resignation to Getraer?" asked Ponch, pouring ketchup on his french fries.

"Yes and no...he talked me in to taking an indefinite leave of absence so that there'll be a spot for me."

Jon smiled a little and a small look of relief filled Ponch's eyes.

They were quiet again, both picking at their food as neither really had an appetite anymore.

"So, uh...you think you can manage being Wyoming without getting too bored?" Ponch finally asked, the familiar twinkle returning to his brown eyes.

Jon chuckled. "Well, working the ranch will keep me busy, that's for sure. But uh, I think I'll find some other things to do." At that last part, Jon glanced up at his partner with a grin.

Ponch read the look on his partner's face and knew immediately.

"You met someone, didn't you?"

Jon simply smiled.

"Hey, way to go partner!" exclaimed Ponch so loudly that Jon felt sure the entire restaurant heard him.

"I knew all those years of hanging out with me would rub off on you."

"Yeah, I suppose I did pick up a few things from the 'Poncherello School of Cool'."

They both laughed and clinked their glasses.


	13. Chapter 13

Jon leaned against the back wall of the briefing room; he'd wanted to come in to central before picking up Old Grey from the stables and heading out to Wyoming so that he could say goodbye to everyone.

"...which brings me to my last item," said Getraer from the head of the room. He cleared his throat before continuing: "We're losing one of our own today as he goes home to Wyoming to help out on the family ranch...so I'd like to say a few words about Officer Jon Baker. Jon, would you come up here, please?"

Jon glanced around the room nervously; he wasn't expecting this. As he looked around he caught Ponch's eye; his partner mouthed the words "go on" and jerked his head towards the front of the room. Jon reluctantly walked forward and stood next to Getraer.

"Jon, on behalf of the whole department I'd like to say that it's been an honor and a pleasure. You are one of the finest officers I've ever worked with. You're dependable, honest, hard working...and above all, a good friend. I hope you know there's always a home for you with the CHP, and that you'll come back to us soon. We're sure gonna miss you around here."

"Thanks, Sarge," said Jon quietly as he embraced his Sergeant. Someone started clapping, and as Jon broke away from Getraer he saw every officer in the room on their feet, applauding and whistling for him. Jon gazed around, humbled, and then bit his lip hard as a wave of emotion threatened to overtake him. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Getraer motion to someone, and Sharon, one of the station's secretaries, came in with a large cake that said "Goodbye Jon," in blue frosting, complete with a mini CHP motor and helmet stuck on top.

Sharon set the cake down on the table at the front of the room and began cutting the cake; passing out slices on the small paper plates that were already present on the table. As the officers came up to claim their piece, Ponch strode up behind Jon.

"Surprise," he said, smiling.

"Ponch, you didn't have to..."

Ponch cut him off. "Don't be so modest. A partner like you deserves a good send off."

"Thanks, Ponch."

"Anytime, man."

Soon, the officers began coming up to Jon and wishing him well as they headed out to hit their beats.

"Keep in touch, pal," said Grossie, shaking Jon's hand.

Bonnie, who was weeping openly, gave Jon a hug and a kiss on the cheek. "Take care of yourself...I'll miss you," she said.

Bear came up next to shake Jon's hand. "Take it easy, Jon."

One by one, the officers said their goodbyes to Jon and began trickling out of the briefing room until only Jon and Ponch were left.

The two men were quiet for a moment.

"Ponch," said Jon slowly, "I just wanted to...say thanks for...and that I'll miss...," but Jon's voice caught.

Ponch nodded and said, "you too." After almost six years together as partners, and even longer as friends, both men recognized the other's gratitude for the friendship and the memories; for always looking out for one another and being there for each other in the good times and bad, as well as how much they'd miss each other.

"I'll uh...keep in touch," said Jon.

"You'd better."

"And hey, you can come visit the ol' homestead anytime. Maybe I'll finally get you on a horse," grinned Jon.

Ponch laughed. "Keep dreaming, partner."

"Well, I'd better hit the road..."

"Yeah, I've got to hit the bricks."

Jon extended his hand. Ponch shook it, but then pulled Jon in for a hug.

"You take care of yourself, Ponch."

"You too." Ponch smiled weakly at Jon and then strode out of the briefing room, putting on his sunglasses as he did so, as he didn't want anyone to see the tears brimming in his eyes.

Jon took a moment before leaving the briefing room to take it all in. He sighed heavily as he remembered his first day at central and as a motor officer, sneaking in to briefings late and hoping that Getraer wouldn't notice (even though he and Ponch knew full well that their Sargeant was on to them), and all the good times he'd had with his partner and the people at central. This place had become his home, and the officers like family, making it that much harder to leave them behind. He reflected too on what Abby had said to him the other night, and knew that he would indeed leave a part of himself here at Central, and take pieces - all the fond memories and friendships - to carry with him forever. When he got in his truck, he finally allowed the tears that had been building to flow for a few moments, before regaining his composure and starting the engine.

Ponch walked through the door into the bright California sunshine, and took a deep breath as he climbed aboard his motor and revved the engine. He waved to Jon when his truck passed him out of the CHP lot. Then, he rode off alone. But though he and Jon were both going their separate ways for now, each could take solace in knowing that the bonds of true friendship are never broken, and that no matter what, they'd always be partners.

...

**Author's Note:  
**Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed it! Feel free to leave reviews. :)  
~Melissa


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